Tag Archives: veins

Don’t Turn The Tables Sweetheart, You’re Gonna Dizzy Yourself Sick

Well, she’s not bleeding on the ballroom floor
Just for the attention, ‘cause that’s just ridiculously odd
Well, she sure is going to get it, here’s the setting
Fashion magazines line the walls now, the walls line the bullet holes
Have some composure and where is your posture? Oh, no, no!
You’re pulling the trigger, pulling the trigger all wrong…

~*~

You act like you’ve got a pretty laugh stuck in your ragged throat

Proud of the way you dirty your skin, proud of the way you gloat

About the veins, they’re just veins, they’re just another empty sea

I don’t want to swim, I don’t want to sink, I don’t want to censor me

.

Can you see the way I twist my hair into a noose that I’ll never hang?

Well the knots have hurt my fingers and for a moment my hands stung

All this beauty left to be romantic about, but sometimes nature is a bore

The bayside’s wayside in screaming trees, sometimes nature is a whore

.

When we did it, it was funny, it was temporary, it was just a tragedy

Coming from the cheap seats and you clapped for the longest irony

Now it’s your turn, it’s not funny, it’s forever, it’s a bruised symphony

We paid the balcony scene just to watch a charcoal sob for a penny

.

And your lips spill with attention and gush that you don’t want any

Paint the crooked crucifix on your pallid cheeks with bitter and honey

Now all the hypocrites adore you, blood-type A of sycophantic rude

Play a victim with a rifle to their shoulders, act as if it’s how you should

.

Now the trigger smiles so happy, does that bullet taste like sweet candy?

Do the fucking polaroids show off the best sides of your broken inhumanity?

Make us sorry that this reality didn’t fit your peach-twill dress and sanity

Was it your idea to put the slit in your throat so you can pretend that it’s originality?

~*~

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention!
Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!
When I say shotgun, you say wedding: shotgun, wedding, shotgun, wedding!
She didn’t choose this role, but she’ll play it and make it sincere
So you cry, you cry (give me a break) but they believe it from the tears
And the teeth right down to the blood at her feet…

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Colourblind Memory

And when I see you
I really see you upside-down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here…

~*~

It was an easy kind of self-destruction; the one I never had to beg for.

After a few nights of staying awake and listening to cheaply-constructed songs on the static radio, I was already haunted. Copper chain links that stabbed at the fictional horizon and left unstitched scars on the exposed wind. Shy vespertine flowers that bloomed in the most coruscant spectrums, but only when no weeping eye was there to witness their exquisite grandeur and compose concerto symphonies about it. An infinite, arrogant, wakeless kind of blue that rivaled every transatlantic and pacific direction that I chased; but, unlike the oceans of this planet so drenched and cold and jaded to the bone, no one is ever able to cross it, and no one ever will.

And violet. A damnable shade, akin to roses-not-reds and forget-me-nots, that violet. A bleeding, dirty kind of violet that left filthy, undecipherable Roschach stains everywhere. Splattering the bruises of my halted tongue, shading the asphyxiation of my untouched lips, violently overtaking the rock-steady sorry secret that was divulged and diluted all too late. It painted a tragedy that only the most damaged and paranoid artists could understand, and rending shreds of the purest agony down my colliding ribs that not even the most genius maestros and starving dilettantes could begin to dissect; for it was a foreign anatomy. A different unknown. A beyond the beyond. It was brutally twisted inside my veins and gauchely discarded somewhere in between sense and sanctuary, photographed and arrested in another postcard vintage lie. I could write graphite letters at the back all I want, but I’ll never swim away from the indigo waves in front. It was our holiday memory, drowning me again and again and again.

Absolutely useless. It couldn’t aid my breathing. It couldn’t save my sleeping. It was a disease that was highly susceptible only to my atrophied words and comatosed syllogisms—the same unfortunate ones that are now leaving my chafed fingers but never my wornout mind, like you, like you, like you.

Unrelenting. Unsuspending. Unending.

All my colours were inverted. And no one can turn it back the right way.

If there even was one.

~*~

Please don’t worry, lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The spectrum’s A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years…

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Skin and Thorn

Skinny girl

With skinny veins

Hungry flesh

And starving blood

.

Feed herself

Cold air and warm metal

Prickly as a thorn

Delicate as a lily petal

.

Skinny girl

With skinny veins

Ignore the need

Crave for the pain

.

Dried-out heart

“She’s sick in the head”

At least she looks pretty

Lying in her velvet bed.

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Oubliette

the thorny thought

it grows and grows

through dahlias grey

and crimson throes

.

it pierces past

the hardest stones

the softest veils

and diamond bones

.

the thorny thought

thus rages harsh

climbs castles high

to reach the stars

.

it pierces past

the coldest blood

and empties veins

to the last drop.

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all hands (around my throat)

This is strange as hell to me
To say out loud it’s happening
What a powerless weight I am feeling
Oh, I’m fighting for a fate so fleeting…

~*~

i’m crossing

lines that

i didn’t know

were there,

taking the

last word in

an endless

argument that

never even began,

and tasting the

chagrin in a

flavourless

tongue.

i danced with

the devil once

and now i’m

struck by love,

no love for

this insanity,

no love for

myself at all—

nothing even

matters anymore.

i blame myself

for what i

didn’t do, for

what i couldn’t

have helped,

blame myself

for what they said

because it’s

easier that way.

i don’t want

anyone’s grasp

to pull me out and

bring me back,

i don’t want

to be named

another specimen;

i just don’t want

to be saved.

and i’m trying my

best to ignore

the voices

coursing in my

veins, draining me

of blood, as they

all hissed away

vindictively

“that could have

been you.”

~*~

You can’t let go, who is this ghost?
I won’t agree, calling my friends
This is for real, emergency…

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Needle and Thread

You watch me bleed until I can’t breathe
I’m shaking, falling onto my knees
And now that I’m without your kisses
I’ll be needing stitches…

~*~

It’s all I can do to move past the stark vitriol and hurt

When you dragged me backwards teeth-first, down into the dirt

Like it even mattered which side you and I were even on

Because in the end, I always lost—and you always won

My mouth was full of roses when you started to bleed

Inject the venom straight in my veins, isn’t that what you need?

The morphine leaves my eyes dry and my heart feeling numb

But the side effects were fatal, my breaths tried not to succumb

To the excruciating pain everywhere that refused to wear off

When I kicked back on withdrawals, I screamed my throat rough

I begged it all away for the sake of a higher intake glucose

But the saline dripping turned to rivers of a medicated overdose

Are you satisfied now, medical man, after all that you’ve done?

Should’ve smothered my face with a pillow instead, it’s easier to flatline

But you fooled me into liking torture, even got the signature for my consent

So I can’t blame your hospitality for drowning me under hard cement

Now it’s all I can do to bandage my wounds and lick on the healing pain

Sew my unraveling stitches until empty black holes are all that ever remain

And it never mattered which side was playing the victor and the victim

Because in the end, you will never lose—and I will never win.

~*~

I’m tripping over myself
Aching, begging you to come help
And now that I’m without your kisses
I’ll be needing stitches…

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Liplock Torture; Suffering Greys

And I can’t tell if this is all a dream or if I’m really here
But as long as I can feel you, I don’t really care, I don’t really care
Can we pretend like it’s just you and me?
I wanna act like I can feel something
And you don’t have to give it back to me…

~*~

do you feel me

breathing in your sins

and suffocating in third degree as

you mercilessly watch me die?

.

i wouldn’t care but

a single rejection would be nice

.

any reaction, even if

you laugh at my suffering

it doesn’t have to be an outcry of protest

because i know it never works like

that, you’re not a dreamer

.

i’m losing the feeling

in my fingers, but still, you won’t

hold them and pull me back

.

i’m dangling like

the burning cigarette between your lips

and sooner or later i will be

falling like the ashes

.

i could swallow

a million razors right now, and

still, you’d act as if it was simply sweet

.

i didn’t know what to expect

i can’t fathom why i even expected anything

you’ll always get the best of my worst

blue oceans pulling me into pacific

shooting my veins under a loaded gun

leaving my eyes with a vacancy

.

i could hope for a million years until it kills me

and even then, you wouldn’t cry.

~*~

‘Cause I can’t promise much of anything
I see in shades of grey, I’m going blind again
But when it comes to you, my world is red
I see in shades of grey, losing my mind again
‘Cause when it comes to you my world is deep red…

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Places In My Veins

I’ll lower your body down into an open grave 
And let the vultures have their way with you
We’ll take you by surprise and spill your blood like wine
Scarlet stains upon the flesh will end the night…

~*~

There’s a place for my pulse

Somewhere within my wrists

But no matter how hard I try

I can’t figure out where it is

.

I’ll rest my head in a sea of nightmares

And drown looking for a sweeter dream

I’ll marry a liar just to find out the truth

High on the promise, low on self-esteem

.

And the haze is piercing my blacktop heart

Latent vortex swirling in a negative universe

Rotting with the blindness that I call my eyes

Hides the blood of another paralysing curse

.

There’s a place for the vaguer beat of my soul

Somewhere under my skin, between my wrists

But no matter how many deep incisions I make

I simply can’t seem to find it; does it even exist?

~*~

Everything you say rings hollow
But you will tell your stories again and again
Sell your half-truths with a smile
Take and inject it, inject it!

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Escape From Hell

Or would you say that I had a part of it?
Well, I guess we’ll never know
Constant recovery
I see you choke and it takes my breath away
But all is good, we close our eyes
They all accept the lie…

~*~

Now, don’t you dare say I had any part of this

That assault was undisguised and remorseless

When the faces in the mirror melted into ghosts

If I can save our hunger, guess we’ll never know

.

Next up, constantly crossing staler thresholds of recovery

As I bruise my bones, uncertainty slips between my knees

Don’t stop, shaking and breaking against painful demands

And you could make the sugar taste like salt in your hands

.

Before the hearts of the heartless burn down the bloodless

Trapped in the spinning spokes, and crushed in failing tests

Neglect reckless ambivalence, amplify the screaming angels

Elusive degeneration suspended back to a contaminated hell

.

A procession of painkillers parading in my tumescent tongue

From carotid to clavicle, this concussion hits like a blank gun

Treachery will never leave your ears, no matter what the cost

The invalid and confined crawl in damned realms, forever lost

.

Reject habitual vindication, accept their saccharine lies that feed

To the unresponsive eyes craving desperately for what they need

And we’re tangled in this fucking mess our veins will never show

If I’m still innocent, if you could be saved, guess we’ll never know.

~*~

I let you down, and I started to run
Never meant to be your pain
Oh my god, what have I become?
Show me and show me the way back
Show me the way back home!

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knotted

hatred is all that ever

intertwines itself within my

fraying veins, embedded

deeply and melding

until even the sharpest of blades

are unable to dig it out

and i slowly begin to unravel.

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